


Ghost Trio

by Mychelle_Wilmot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Between Episodes, Conflicted Will, Gen, Internal Conflict, Introspection, M/M, Season/Series 02, and a lot of talk about moths and butterflies and caterpillars, hannibal likes drawing will, set after tome-wan but before mizumono, there is randall tier and neal frank mentions, will doesn't know what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mychelle_Wilmot/pseuds/Mychelle_Wilmot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it scared Will, how easy and comfortable it was to be in Hannibal’s side. He felt both sick at himself and fearful for the future, afraid that Hannibal’s incarceration wouldn’t be enough to free him of his grasp, not when Hannibal was already this deep under his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Trio

**Author's Note:**

> My first time trying to write Hannigram - not my first time writing Hannibal since I already tried my hand with Marlana, but the boys are more complicated, sigh. There's not much action in here (both in the literal sense and in the romantic sense), but I do like to write quiet scenes.
> 
> The title is completely unrelated with the story, and it's titled this way because I was listening to the posts in the [Hannibal's Music](http://hannibalsmusic.tumblr.com/) tumblr and I listened to Ghost Trio in a loop while I wrote it.
> 
> I have no beta reader; every mistake is my own.

***

The fire crackled softly in the stillness of the night; staring at the bright orange flames in front of him, Will closed his eyes and let the warmth and the low sounds envelop him, the serenity of the moment making his mind blissfully quiet for once.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace in Hannibal’s office, forgotten paper files on his side, away from the unforgivable flames. He wasn't reading the files anymore or focusing in the words, but nevertheless their meaning was still in the back of his mind.

Hannibal had invited him for dinner earlier that day during a phone call, and considering that Will didn't have anymore the habit or choice of refusing any of his invitations, he gladly accepted to share this meal at Hannibal’s dinner table.

Neither the meal - fancy, ridiculously complex, infuriating delicious - or the conversation - the usual veiled metaphors hiding behind euphemisms - surprised Will. After months of this particular dance, he was becoming an expert in facing these kinds of situations beside Hannibal and he was rarely surprised at the man’s often infuriating words.

What did surprised Will was when Hannibal asked if he wanted to retreat to his office and stay a few more hours.

While it wouldn’t be the first time that he stayed at Hannibal’s house after their sessions or their dinners, it wasn’t a habit, and with the memory of the last time they did it - the memory of Hannibal’s soft voice talking about Achilles and Patroclus and the determination in Will’s voice when he told Hannibal that he needed to show his true self for Jack - it made Will feel hesitant, uncertain of which particular game Hannibal was playing at that moment.

When Will took too long to answer, Hannibal noticed and said he wanted to show Will a few files he could find interesting, and that piqued Will’s curiosity enough for him to forget his hesitation.

When they reached the office, Will had to admit that Hannibal was right about his possible interest when Hannibal explained that he was taking the first steps for the upcoming changes in his life after their revelation for Jack, and one of these steps was going to be the act of disassemble his identity on Baltimore - and doing that, he would have to get rid of all his notes and files on all of his patients.

Will contained the impulse to swallow or avoid Hannibal’s eyes; it wouldn’t be good to demonstrate any signs of doubt or nervousness, even if the sensation was becoming more and more common when he was around Hannibal. Instead, he calmly made eye contact and nodded.

“There is no need to erase it all in a hurry, and such behaviour could even arouse suspicion” Hannibal had said “So I intend to destroy it slowly on later days, except for these few cases that I think you might take an interest.”

And that was how Will found himself distracted for a long time, maybe hours; sitting on the floor by the fireplace, immersed in the reading of Hannibal’s notes in three of his patients while Hannibal silently sat on his desk, drawing something.

The notes about Randall Tier weren’t much different from what Will expected, but he did appreciated the extra information that Hannibal’s notes provided, even if he shot an amused glance when he saw Tier’s name on one of the folders.

He was genuinely curious and devoured the content quickly; it didn't matter how many times he tried to guilt trip himself in feeling bad for murdering Randall Tier, he never blamed himself. Will only killed him to preserve his own life, and in the process he removed a cold blooded serial killer.

No, Will really didn't felt guilty about his murder, and he couldn't even feel guilty for indulging in this morbid curiosity provided by Hannibal. His imagination didn't had any trouble to put together the Randall Tier that he knew and the boy described in Hannibal’s notes and the result was very satisfactory - he was more than aware of Randall Tier design, but the full knowledge of his life felt good.

When he started to read the other two files, Will didn’t have the advantage of previous knowledge, but that wasn’t a problem - he liked a challenge, even if the file of Jame Gumb made Will furrow his brows a few times.

It was unusual in several ways; apparently, Jame Gumb only came to Hannibal for therapy twice, and Hannibal only wrote vague details about him. Will even tried to close his eyes and let his empathy do its work, but the absence of pictures and more information blocked his ability. The only thing he could easily see was that Jame Gumb was a very dangerous man.

Frustrated with the lack of information and unwilling to give Hannibal the satisfaction of asking, Will soon put the file aside and started to read the last one.

As soon as he started reading he knew: the file of Neal Frank was the most interesting of all three. Differently from the other two, Hannibal didn’t spared words to illustrate his unconventional therapy methods, and even without a visual reference, it wasn’t hard for Will to imagine Neal Frank’s therapy hours.

But what really caught his attention was how familiar Neal Frank sounded. While his empathy could make him understand the most undecipherable of the murderers, he didn’t needed to empathize with the situation of having his mental health becoming increasingly worst under Hannibal Lecter’s care when he had the experience on first hand.

For a moment he felt angry, just as angry and irrationally hurt  as he had felt when he asked Hannibal about Randall Tier and how many others like him existed; he felt stupid for feeling hurt then, but the notion that their cat and mouse game wasn’t as special as Will initially thought didn’t sit well with him.

However, just as quickly as the feeling came, it went away when he remembered Hannibal’s words. _Every patient is unique_. He didn’t pay much attention for it then, but he did now. Reading the files, he couldn’t fool himself in thinking that Hannibal played this particular game with every person with a singular mind that he found in his life; Hannibal was always eager to toy with someone, but Will couldn’t find evidence that he had with his other patients anything like they had with their particular chase.

The thought that what he and Hannibal had was different from anything else that Hannibal had was both pleasant and shameful - it was pleasant to feel so unique, and shameful to feel so pleased to be special for a man like Hannibal.

That was when he had carefully put the papers on the floor beside him and closed his eyes. The only sounds in the office was the wood burning on the fire and the low sound of Hannibal’s pencil on the paper, and Will could let his mind rest in silence for a few moments.

But just like he expected, the silence didn't last too long - it never did with his mind - and yet the peacefulness of the occasion didn't go away.

Will was feeling… not exactly happy, but satisfied with the fact that Hannibal confided those files to him. He was freely giving Will a peek of the monster that lived beneath his skin, and at the same time he was showing his trust in Will,  giving him such suspicious information.

Both things pleased him; he appreciated that Hannibal wasn’t deliberately lying to his face anymore, and he liked having Hannibal’s trust. It was good, both for personal and practical reasons.

It occurred to him for a moment that he should try to show Jack this file somehow - if nothing, it could at least help to tarnish Hannibal’s immaculate career - but he soon dismissed the thought. Hannibal would sure notice if he tried, and the risk wasn’t worth it.

And at least to himself, Will could admit that the idea didn’t please him because that wouldn’t suit the game he was playing with Hannibal. Running to Jack with petty accusations seemed cheap, undignified. When Hannibal was caught, Will was sure that there would be violence and blood; Hannibal would never give up without a good fight, and the idea of using such a small accusation to gain time was just too impersonal for Will. He was the one who was going to catch Hannibal, and he would catch him in his own terms.

Of course, he said the same thing to himself when Hannibal took Mason to Wolf Trap and broke his neck, when he had evidence to incriminate Hannibal all over his house; it wasn’t a small accusation, and even if they couldn’t prove that Hannibal was the Ripper, they would have in their hands plenty of evidence to at least arrest Hannibal.

Nevertheless, when the time came and the pieces were on motion, and despite what he told Jack about this being an excellent opportunity, Will couldn’t bring himself to condemn Hannibal for ruining permanently Mason Verger’s life, not when he remained still and watched Hannibal break his neck with such satisfaction in seeing Mason ruined; it felt _right_.

Mason Verger was no better than a pig and he deserved to be punished for all the abuse he spent his life forcing on Margot, for what he tried to do with him and Hannibal, and Will couldn’t even consider for a minute arresting Hannibal for it.

Will knew that he was playing with fire and he shouldn’t be so picky. Hannibal was meticulous and careful, and he never left any evidence in his crime scenes - evidence that now Will had twice the opportunity to have, and ignored because it didn’t seem appropriate.

And Will didn’t even know what would be appropriated, what would be enough to satisfy him.

Part of him still wanted to kill Hannibal, make him pay all that he made Will suffer, make him suffer like he did Abigail suffer before killing her. This was the part of him who still had nightmares during the night, nightmares with stags, with Abigail’s ear and Beverly’s blood; the part of him that often dreamed about his hands around Hannibal’s throat, squeezing the life out of him.

But for his dismay, other part of him - a worryingly growing one - understood Hannibal more and more each passing day. His empathy always made him understand the cruelty in killers as if it was his own, but he couldn’t blame his empathy for still liking Hannibal so much; it was like this other part of him went back to genuinely enjoying Hannibal’s company even more than he did before discovering his true identity. It was the part of him who dreamed of blood and Hannibal's hands, of slaughtering wicked men with Hannibal as his shadow.

Will tried to ignore this part of him, because he knew that he shouldn’t like Hannibal that much, that he shouldn’t find so much joy in the man’s companion. But considering that he was on Hannibal’s house in the middle of the night, sitting with his eyes closed on the soft rug in front of the fireplace and feeling the warmth of the fire on his skin, hearing the low noise of Hannibal drawing and feeling more comfortable in his skin in that moment than he could ever remember being in the entire past year was enough prove to tell him that ignoring that part of him wasn’t the best course of action.

Sometimes it scared Will, how easy and comfortable it was to be in Hannibal’s side. He felt both sick at himself and fearful for the future, afraid that Hannibal’s incarceration wouldn’t be enough to free him of his grasp, not when Hannibal was already this deep under his skin, and somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to pay for it

“You do seem to be in a very contemplative mood today, Will.”

Will didn’t open his eyes, not yet, but he smiled, somewhat bitterly; Hannibal could never let him quiet for too long without trying to poke his head to know what he was thinking.

“You did give me a lot to contemplate, Doctor.”

“So I did. And while I wouldn’t try to pry…”

Will snorted at that, but Hannibal just ignored him.

“...I will admit to be somewhat curious with your lack of reaction.”

Will opened his eyes then, amused at the lack of subtlety, and observed Hannibal for a moment; he was still sitting on his desk, but the paper and his pencil were abandoned, his total focus on Will.

“They’re very different cases, but they all illustrate your... unorthodox psychiatry,” Will said slowly “I’m still wondering what kind of reaction you were expecting to get from me.”

Hannibal gave him a tiny, infuriating smile.

“I wouldn’t dare to presume a reaction from you; I learned early in our acquaintance that it’s pointless to try to fully predict your actions. I also learned that the uncertainty of your reaction it’s much more satisfactory than anything I could imagine.”

Will didn’t stood up, but he turned himself a little so he could look directly at Hannibal.

“Your curiosity it’s the most traceable motivation of yours that I could ever find, even if it’s completely useless in the construction of a profile.”

“Are you trying to profile me, Will?”

“Not really,” Will sighed “I’m not trying anymore, because it would also be pointless to profile you when you so easily defy all forms of categorization I ever learned.”

He didn’t say “Because you’re too unique to profile”, but Hannibal seemed to hear the unsaid words anyway, judging by his smug expression, making Will feel annoyed at himself for the unintentional praise.

He stayed in silence for long minutes then, and so did Hannibal; he seemed quite happy to wait for Will to spill over his thoughts, as he always did.

“I’m feeling... both flattered and suspicious,” Will said, trying to not think about how these words could perfect summon up how he always felt when Hannibal was this focused on him “Flattered that you cared to show me before destroying it, and suspicious of why exactly you did it.”

“I already told you why.”

“Yes you did. But with you, meaning is never so straightforward, so I know there must be something else.” He cocked a brow in Hannibal’s direction; he already played his part, now was Hannibal’s turn.

Hannibal stood from his desk, walking in front of it and leaning against it, closer to Will now.

“I have treated a multitude of patients since I started practicing psychiatry,” Hannibal started “And most of them are common cases. Divorcing couples trying to save a failing marriage, depressed people trying to find meaning in their lives again, anxious women and men trying to navigate their way into the world.”

Listening to Hannibal’s words, Will couldn't help but imagine him counselling a divorcing couple discussing about the most mundane things, and Will had to suppress a smile, imagining Hannibal’s boredom.

“And while even ordinary problems can have an interesting effect in uncommon minds, such cases aren’t the most significant ones I had to face.”

“Of course not,” Will managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“As I once told you, every patient is unique; all of them have some peculiarities that I can’t find in others.”

“But somehow, these three have a common factor,” Will mused.

“Can you guess what this factor would be?”

“Murder?”

Hannibal raised his brows.

“Not quite. I don’t think Neal Frank ever took a life.”

“But you wanted him to.”

Hannibal just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

Very slowly, Will put himself to his feet; the warmth of the fire was good, but his leg was starting to ache already from staying so long on the floor.

Also, he didn’t like to be sitting down in such a vulnerable way when Hannibal was looking at him like that.

“Aside from Randall Tier, there’s not enough information in these files for me to construct a full profile, and you know that - it’s not enough for me to get the whole picture.”

“But it’s enough for you to get ideas.”

Will nodded, taking a few steps in Hannibal's direction, but not enough to get really close.

“You saw something that caught your interest in these three people. Some distinguished darkness, perhaps, or at least some distinguished potential. Something worth noticing, or worth nurturing. Or both.”

Hannibal nodded, and crossed his hands on his right leg, leaning his body a little towards Will.

“These three individuals have - or at least in Randall’s case, had - quite unique minds, each one vastly different. Randall Tier needed encouragement, courage to release his inner beast, while Jame Gumb needed no such thing; he didn’t seek me for therapeutic reasons. He only needed to share his achievements with someone who wouldn’t flee in fright to the next police station.”

“And what about Neal Frank?” Will asked when Hannibal stayed too long in silence, curious about the omission.

Hannibal sighed, his face losing some of the cheerfulness that he was previously expressing.

“I’m afraid Neal Frank was a personal failure. He started therapy for common reasons, but soon enough I could sense potential in his character that I tried to stimulate.”

"I'm quite familiarized with your stimulation methods, Doctor,” Will said dryly “And considering your own description, you used similar methods in me and in Neal Frank.”

“I did, yes,” Hannibal said, unapologetic as ever “With vastly different results. He began to feel depressed and he started to feel wary of my methods, and without any sign of his potential being released any time soon, I had to give him a referral to a fellow psychiatrist.”

There wasn’t pictures on the file for Will to imagine what Neal Frank looked like, but with Hannibal’s words, it was easy to picture him on the chair that Will always sat on, feeling more and more distressed every new session and feeling the cold, calculating gaze of Hannibal on his skin.  

It was a very relatable scene.

“Can you guess now the link between these particular patients, Will?”

Will furrowed his eyebrows, trying to coordinate some order to his thoughts.

“They all were in different states of acceptation of their true selves. Randall Tier was still figuring out who he was, while Jame Gumb had no illusions about his true self. And Neal Frank was either in deep denial of his inner potential or you truly committed a mistake with him.”

Hannibal smiled, both pride and fondness showing in his face, and Will hated how happy he felt with Hannibal’s approval.

“All of them were in different states of their own becoming, yes. That’s what I wanted to show you, Will.”

“That you didn’t start to encourage murder to your patients with me?” Will asked, not trying to hide the sarcasm in his words.

Hannibal shook his head, amused.

“That every becoming have a different shape, a different rhythm. The time spent inside the chrysalis is different for every moth and butterfly, just like the shape and colour of their wings once they left it.”

“I already know the size of my wings, Doctor - unless you’re unsure if my metamorphosis is complete,” Will said, cautious; he didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

“The metamorphosis is truly a magnificent phenomenon,” Hannibal started, his voice in the same jovial tone “It’s one of the most fascinating procedures in nature. The caterpillar goes through a very radical, sophisticated transformation, and in the end, the moth it’s barely recognizable from the caterpillar it used to be.”

“It changes so much to the point of nearly destruction of itself. It leaves an entire way of existence behind and learns to be a new creature,” Will said, thoughtfully.

“One could argue that you went through a similar process. Biological changes aside, the becoming of what you are now were provided thanks to the collapse of your former self.”

“I wouldn’t have got there without your help,” Will said, not really accusatory, but not kind either.

“Indeed,” Hannibal said nonchalantly, and Will did roll his eyes this time “And you’re a new creature now, just like a butterfly or a moth leaving the chrysalis for the first time.”

“Just like a moth. Without memories of a previous life, the same state of blankness, anxious to learn how to fly?” Will asked in genuinely curiosity; his empathy was never completely accurate with Hannibal, and he never was really sure of the man’s true intentions with him.

It’s this what Hannibal wanted all along? A violent, blank serial killer ready to provoke chaos? If so, the idea was a little disappointing.

Hannibal smiled - or better, smirked at him - as if he could tell exactly what Will was thinking.

“As a matter of fact, a still recent scientific study proved that moths and butterflies aren’t creatures devoid of memories of their previous lives. Some caterpillars were exposed to an odour, and the scientists of that project subjected these caterpillars to small electric shocks every time they came in contact with it - soon enough, the caterpillars learned to avoid that painful smell. What they observed was that the older ones, the ones with a most developed brain, still avoided that same odour even after their full transformation as moths or butterflies.”

Will only raised his eyebrows; he wasn’t expecting a lecture about the subject, but if he thought for a second about the topics of most of their conversations, this one was actually quite normal.  

“I don’t expect or even want you to forget who you were before, Will. The only thing I wanted was to you to release yourself of your own moral impositions and enjoy your true self.”

“And reach my full potential.”

“Yes.”

When Hannibal smiled this time, Will startled at how close he could see Hannibal’s mouth, how close their eyes were; Hannibal was still leaning on his desk, so it was Will who approached him without even noticing.

Embarrassed at himself, Will looked down at Hannibal’s desk, and once again in such a short period of time he startled when he saw himself portrayed in the paper sheet that Hannibal was previously drawing.

Will looked at it for a moment; the drawing showed him in front of  the fireplace with the files around him, just like he was a few minutes ago. His eyes were also closed, and the expression on his face…

He meant to ask Hannibal “Why were you drawing me?” but looking at his expression in the drawing, he blurted instead “This doesn’t look like me at all”.

Will could almost feel the outrage coming from Hannibal, and when Will looked at him he wasn’t disappointed at how offended Hannibal looked, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“It’s not what I meant. It’s aesthetically very accurate, yes; I just meant that I never look this peaceful.”

And that was true; this was the most strange thing about the drawing. Will never felt the kind of serenity that his graffiti twin was showing.

“You were, just now,” Hannibal said, his expression softening after the explanation “Immersed on your mind, surrounded by the light of the fire. The peacefulness on your face was a breathtaking vision, and I couldn’t stop myself from trying to recreate that moment on paper, since it’s already imprinted on my mind.”

Will ducked his head, blushing a little with the words, with the intensity on Hannibal’s gaze.

“That’s why you distracted me with your files, so I would remain still and wouldn’t spoil your drawing?”

“The drawing was a pleasant side effect. I only wanted to give you something to muse about, because it’s always a pleasure to witness a part of your becoming coming to life.”

Will was now at Hannibal’s side, also leaning on his desk, their poses mirroring each other; he wasn’t blushing anymore, and he felt like he could look at Hannibal’s face again.

“You talk as if this is an incomplete process. Do you think I still didn’t break free from my chrysalis, Doctor?”

“I know you didn’t. I think this moment of completion might happen in our dinner with Jack Crawford, even if I’m still uncertain if this is the right course of action.”

Will managed to stop himself from twitching, but the words made his heart beat a little faster - he really didn’t want Hannibal to touch this subject at all, not in that night.

“Are you thinking that I’ll maybe have second thoughts?”

“I think Jack Crawford was a heavy source of influence for you, both now and before; you must have felt very conflicting thoughts about Jack. He was your boss, a failed pillar of strength, maybe even a father figure. You have enough experiences with him for him to be a threat; considering how much influence he had before, remnants of his influence still living inside you might protest to our plans for him.”

Will couldn’t sustain Hannibal’s eyes any longer; this was not good, at all. Hannibal shouldn’t have noticed his inner turmoil, and Will really shouldn't give him the impression of hesitation. He was putting the entire game at risk doing it.

“If you so wish, we could stay and proceed as you intended with Jack. But if you think it’s too soon, I wouldn't mind sparing his life for the time being. You and I could quietly slip away and leave no traces, fortify your transformation, and we could even come back so you could finish Jack’s life with your blade, if you still wished so.”

Will still didn’t raised his eyes to Hannibal, fearing that he would tell him everything if he did so. He was feeling hot, burning with shame, and not knowing what shamed him more, if it was how easily tempted he was in betraying Jack or if it was how badly he wanted to say yes to Hannibal’s request.

For a moment, he allowed himself to consider the possibility; he could keep Jack in the dark for a few more days, enough to give Hannibal enough time to cover all his traces, and when Jack discovered Will’s betrayal, they would be long gone. He would be angry and disappointed, but without proofs, Jack would have to let them go and it would even be better for him, to have time to focus in other cases, in his sick wife. It would be good, and no one had to die.

But where would he and Hannibal go? What would they do?

He didn’t think this farce was strong enough to hold if he ran away with Hannibal. Even if Will suddenly acquired a potent bloodlust, Hannibal would eventually figure out that Will was lying to him, and Will knew that he wouldn’t take it well, despise his endless patience and fondness for Will, and what would he do then?

As much tempting as it was, even now his doubts and his shame knew this wasn’t a possibility that he could accept. He was still unsure if he could stand the thought of losing Hannibal’s company, but he was sure that he couldn’t ran away with him like this, with only one sided fragile lies keeping them united.

Swallowing back his shame, Will once again raised his eyes to Hannibal, wiping all traces of indecision of his expression.

“I really need this. I wouldn’t insist so if I thought I was capable of leaving without showing my true self to Jack, who started it all, even before you. I’m well aware of the risks, but I need this.”

Hannibal nodded; he wasn’t disappointed, but he also didn’t seem particularly happy.

“Very well, then,” he said, pushing himself off the desk and walking to the fireplace “So we shall stay and invite Jack for a last supper with us.”

Will followed him in slow steps, until they were side by side once again.

“You still seem troubled, Will. Is it because you still didn’t discover my main reason to make you stay and read those files?”

Will looked at him sharply, incapable of hiding his shock.

“What was it, then?”

Hannibal looked serene, and took his time before answering; he bent down and picked up the files on the floor, throwing them into the fire without much care.

“The simplest of the reasons, Will. I really enjoy having you around."

As Will watched the fire slowly consume the written words of those three doomed men, feeling both warm for the praise and cold for the fear of the future, Will knew that, as much as he could protested, he also felt the same.

**Author's Note:**

> For what I could research, the stuff about moths and butterflies remembering their caterpillar days is true. Yes, I did research it to write Hannigram fanfic.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and it wasn't too hard to read, since English isn't my native language. Reviews are always a pleasure and make my day!


End file.
